


Need

by Shatterpath



Category: Women's Murder Club (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-07
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a strange, almost melancholy need that draws Cindy and Lindsay together.  Cindy's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Date: 12-7-08. To my astonishment, I beat this out in about four hours. Dayum…  
> Word Count: 1034  
> Special thanks to the best pal anyone could have, Ariestess. Guess your grace under pressure when it comes to deadlines finally wore off!  
> Warnings: This got strangely dark and is very different from my usual fare. Dunno where this particular Cindy voice came from, but she's NEAT, in a sexy, slightly sinister way…  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously. If they were the series wouldn't have gone retarded and died a pathetic, asthmatic death. Sigh… I HATE corporate television.

Lindsey is all is all long limbs and tan skin and I like to map all that skin with hands and lips. With Lindsey calling out my name and hands digging into my hair, it's like nothing else matters. It took so long for me to earn this supplicant's altar that I never take it for granted.

Convincing the wounded lion that is Lindsey Boxer to let me pull the thorn out of the paw of her suffocated libido had been a daunting task. Like the proverbial mouse that pulled that thorn, I had to be coaxing and careful to not get squashed to a pulp for my good deed.

At least now I'm not in fear for my life, though premature hair loss might be an issue. Groaning expressively, Lindsey is tiring, balanced on the knife edge of that blinding pinnacle of pleasure I've grown so damn good at coaxing out of her. This wiry frame of hers wears out with all this exercise, like a cheetah on an impala, while my little compact frame clings and aggravates like a stubborn burr. Only I can make her scream, only I can make her itch enough to come back again and again to get it scratched.

Tension ripples over the flat, wiry muscles beneath Lindsey's silky skin and I debate my technique. Do I let her come? It's awful fun to torture her past this point, get the lizard brain to beat down the smarter parts of the grey matter and really get into it. The thoughtful pause in my oral torture makes Linds whine again, something that almost might be my name harsh in her low voice. The woman has an impossibly sexy voice that gets even more amazing when in the throes like this.

Ah, fuck it.

Growling a bit gets Lindsey to curl up, her dark eyes black with need as she stares in disbelief at me. I get this expression a lot, starting with that first erotic attack all those weeks ago. It's like she hardly believes that she's involved in this, but that I am so doggedly persistent in my need for her body.

Exhausted and writhing with the sensual ache, Lindsey moans in what sounds like pain and I grin like a smug cat and give her pulsing clit a friendly little nip. Bet none of her metrosexual pretty boys ever made her writhe like this! Something about having this powerful woman at my mercy makes me a bit of an egomaniac. Oh, but I make it worth her while to get manhandled like this, so to speak.

Speaking of which; a strong suction pull on Lindsey's pussy snaps her strings, body shuddering through a powerful climax and punishing my scalp yet again. Grunting and gasping hoarsely, she rides it out, gripping my head hostage in the swamp of her drenched sex. When I am finally allowed up for air, coughing from oxygen deprivation, I shake off her now slack hands and grin smugly. Salty and tasty as a well-fried slab of something sinful and southern, I lick at her belly for a moment just for the pleasure of doing so before standing up and stretching.

This is, perhaps a bit sadly, how it works. I take carnal advantage of her confusion regarding me, slithering hands and mouth into her pants until she screams for it…

And then I leave.

Yeah, there's something a bit pathetic about it, but I can't really bring myself to care. Our regular lives continue normally enough, research and persistence spiced with some luck to stop the bad people. Ever so often, this weird affair, if you could even call it that, earns me a strange, loaded look from the Boxer that I ignore.

It amuses me to no end that all this smoke and mirrors drives Jill crazy and makes Claire nearly as curious. As long as I'm the sweet little innocent one of the group, the secret stays with me. As if Lindsey will ever confess. Brushing my teeth, I scoff to myself. Lindsey will not move past her scars for me, nor do I expect her to. Her demons are much bigger than I.

Yes, it is indeed a little sad for me, but more so for her. I just want to give her a place to let go and be free from the demons when her body overrides her brain in these long moments of pleasure. There's no explaining my behavior to her, that would break the magic I think and I really don't expect her to ever really process this enough to ask.

Presentable again, I toss my neatly brushed hair over my shoulders and return to the bedroom to say goodbye. Still limp and sprawled where I left her, Lindsey looks like a drained sacrifice. Some dark part of me almost expects to see a chalk outline around her.

Unlike most of these trysts, her dark head rolls over, unfathomable black eyes boring holes in my soul. I have avoided thinking about what she might go through when I strip her naked like this, left alone in the aftermath of her pleasure, so reluctantly given. Just the idea of trying to get past her emotional fortresses makes me tired.

But this time I pause and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over to press a warm kiss between raven wing brows. "Sleep now," I whisper, like a mother to child, letting my sorrel tresses and upper body hide and warm her vulnerabilities as best I can. The sniffling makes me smile sadly, glad that I can be here for her, gratified when I feel her hands tentatively crawl up my arms to lie warmly on my shoulders.

We have always had a strange relationship, Lindsey and I. From the start there has been a certain need between us, but we have never been equals. Only here, sexing up her body, am I ever superior to this amazing creature.

But at this vulnerable moment, with her tears quiet and wet where my cheek is pressed to hers, I think she might actually need me as more than Cindy Thomas, super snoop.

She might just need… me.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Lindsey is all is all long limbs and tan skin, Cindy likes to map all that skin with hands and lips. With Lindsey calling out her name and hands digging into her hair it's like nothing else matters.


End file.
